Simply Mudblood, Rewrite
by Miss Cow
Summary: Alice Clough enrolls herself in Hogwarts without even telling her parents about her magical qualities. What happens when this cunning Muggle-born is sorted into Slytherin, a house where she is hated? Takes place during book one. Remember to R&R.
1. SM Chapter 1

**Okay, I apologize if this is too different from the original version of Simply Mudblood. It's just that modifying the actual Harry Potter books is a sudden interest of mine. There may be spoilers from the entire book series in this story, so be warned. But don't worry, I'm not going to give anything majorly huge away, because this is Alice's story, not Harry's.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That's why it's called a _fan_fiction. Also, the school I mentioned at the end of the chapter is a real school in London. Not mine at all.  
**

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Every little girl and boy always dreams of going to the magical land of wizards, but once they get there, they are trapped. It doesn't take a wizard to figure that out.

Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of Fairyland, of Neverland, of everywhere but here. I dreamed that one day a Unicorn would come and take me away from this dark and dull place I once called home. I even dreamed that I would step into water and find myself a beautiful mermaid, and be able to swim away from all my troubles. And the best of all, I dreamed myself as a magnificent sorcerer, feared by all the world.

But once you're feared, you're never treated the same.

**CHAPTER 1**

I sat awake in bed, dreaming of a world unlike mine, wishing that I were a part of it. Half the other girls and boys were dreaming of it, so why shouldn't I?

And then there was a _bump_ on the window. A _tap_ on the window. _I might as well open the window,_ I remember thinking. _If it's a burglar, there's nothing here I'm too interested in keeping._

I opened the window, awakening the night sky. It wasn't a burglar. It was an owl.

He cooed softly as I let him perch on my arm. I noticed how he's not jabbing his claws into me, and I realize he must be well trained. I carefully untied the bit of parchment from the snowy white owl's leg, and he moved to my shoulder so I could use both arms to open it. Another coo whispered from his small black beak, and I began to read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of _WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

Dear Miss Clough,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed

a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than

July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

**Minerva McGonagall**

Deputy Headmistress

I got a good laugh out of this. Seriously? I'm a _witch_? But I had to admit, the person who pulled this was pretty good; the letter looked so official, and the owl was trained so well! I decided to read on to the next page and see if it's just as lame as the first.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of _WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

**UNIFORM**

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

**COURSE BOOK**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

By Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_

By Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory_

By Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_

By Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

By Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

By Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

By Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

By Wuentin Trimble

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT**

**ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**

Wow.

. . .

The person who wrote this has no life.

No life.

At all.

Why?

Because they spend their entire day writing a list of school supplies for a non-existent school to see if someone thinks it's real!

I was laughing; I was seriously laughing. I couldn't believe that some idiot took their time to pull a prank on _me_! It's just so stu–

"Alice!" A shriek from downstairs cut my laughter short._ Mum,_ I thought. She always had to ruin the moment. "Get your butt down here right now, missy. You've got a lot of work to do!"

I glanced at the letter, and shrug, writing '_yes_' on the back of the parchment. "ALICE! COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" With a sly smile, I tied it back onto the owl's leg. _I'll play along,_ I decided. _It just might be fun._

***

I crept downstairs at the dead of night on July thirty-first. I hadn't heard from the owl since, and though I did believe that it was a fake, I had a tugging feeling in my gut. I _had_ to go downstairs. I _had_ to see if it was true.

_No, no!_ I stopped halfway down the staircase. _Alice, listen to yourself: You're going downstairs to see if you're _magic_?_ I laughed at myself, (though not loud enough for my sleeping parents to hear.) Then, I heard something.

There was a knock at the door.

I stood there, frozen. _It's just your imagination._

I backed up one step. _ You're just freaking out because of that stupid letter._

I turned my flashlight on, but it shut off right away, like how they do in those horror movies. _ Snap out of it!_

I then heard a popping noise, and I let out a small squeak.

"Alice?"

_I cannot move. I am frozen._

"Alice Clough?"

_I am a brick. I cannot make a sound._

"We received your acceptation to Hogwarts," the woman's voice said. "I'm here to pick you up."

_No._ I felt ice cold. The woman must have heard my teeth chattering, because there she was, stomping up the staircase towards me. She was a plump woman wearing a rather large pointed hat, but the rest of her features were a mask under the black of night and unlit room.

"Yes, ma'am," I heard myself say. If she was here to kidnap me, I didn't want her to kill me right here in my own house. The staircase was the worst place to spend my last moments, especially in the Clough Mansion; there were about twelve of 'em, and nobody would find your dead body for at least a week. This was the _last_ place I wanted to die!

The woman chuckled pleasantly, and put a warm hand on my shoulder. I flinched a bit, but her voice soothed me. "I'm Pomona Sprout, professor of Herbology at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts . . . " I repeated, the name sounding foreign in my mouth. "Is it real?"

The woman nodded. "Yes it is. Now, let me get a better look at you. _Lumos_." A bright light sprouted from the stick she was holding, and I got a clear view of her face. I sighed in relief. She didn't look nearly as scary as I'd imagined.

Her hair was curly brown with a few wisps of gray, and her face was sweet and plump. She was wearing what seemed to be a green rag, and a soggy brown hat. "Come with me, Alice," the woman said as she guided me to the bottom floor. "I'm to bring you to Diagon Alley and then to Hogwarts. All Muggle-borns must be guided by a wizard to get their school supplies."

"Aren't you going to tell my parents?" I said carefully.

"Your mum's mum was a Squib, so she should know about wizards," Sprout whispered. "Besides, they were the ones who wrote back accepting our invitation, right?"

"Right," I mumbled.

Before we left the door, I looked back. Was I really leaving my whole life to go after one that might not even be real? One that might be a huge ploy to get rid of me? I thought for a moment. _Yes,_ _I am._

I followed Pomona Sprout out the door, and into the cool night air. "Now," the woman said. "We are going to do something called Apparition." She held out her arm, and I grabbed onto it. "Hold on tightly." The last thing that I saw was her knowing smile, though now when I think about it, it was more of a smirk.

***

If you ever plan on Apparating, then don't. It feels like your being squeezed through a small tube the size of your wrist, then inflated back up again. I was still recovering from the travel, when I saw where we were. My jaw dropped.

"This is Diagon Alley," said Professor Sprout, smiling pleasantly. "We're here to get your school supplies."

There were women, and men, and boys, and girls, all shuffling around along the alley, and in and out the line of stores. I felt a surge of excitement as I stared at the people in the funny cloaks, running around, carrying books, owls, and wands.

That day had definitely been the most magnificent I had ever experienced.

Sprout handed me a sack of coins, but when I opened it, I was dismayed to find that they were only fake coins, probably only to be used for games like the ones they had at _Chuck e Cheeze_. Sprout saw my eyes droop with disappointment, and smiled in an amused way.

"They're Galleons," she said cheerfully. When I let my eyebrow raise, she sighed impatiently, her large, saggy face seeming older than before. "Wizard money."

"_Oh_." With that, Ms. Sprout turned around, and headed towards the closest shop.

It was old, faded, and half the words were falling off, but I could still read what it said. '_Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.'_ Wands? This was absolutely incredible! I would meet someone who had the power to make _wands_! I didn't linger on the thought for long, as the broken, unhinged door, and the tainted, webbed windows were already luring me in.

When I got inside, I realized that there was nothing in the rickety old building. It was just an ancient library of some sort, I guessed. Shelves, were lined up all over the single room, each one filled with long, thin cases. They reminded me a bit of shoe-boxes, and I began to wonder if I had walked into the right store.

"Hello." There was a man sitting at the desk up-front. How could I have missed him?

I stared into his pale eyes, and noted at the intelligence hidden far beneath the depth of mystery concealing it.

"I'm Alice," I whispered, unsure of what to say. "Alice Clough."

"Why yes," the strange old man said curiously. "My father told me about a woman by the name Dorthea Chevalier. You have the same eyes as her. She was your great grandmother, I take it?"

"Why the – how the – " How did this man know who my great grandmother was? I mean, I'd barely even talked to him for a minute, and he already knew this much information about me? Maybe I shouldn't have come after all . . .

"Five inch holly, phoenix feather core. Very good for defensive spells. Now," said the silly man, "we should try and find _you_ a wand. Some measurements should be in order." He disappeared into a small closet, then came out with a measuring stick. "Here we are," he said, holding it up to me. After he finished, he disappeared again to put it away.

He came back with one of the thin boxes, and opened it. There was a a wand.

"Hawthorn, twelve and a half inch, dragon heartstring core. Here," he gave me the wand, and I stared at it. What was I supposed to _do _with it? But then, almost immediately, he whisked the wand away, and gave me a new one. "Try this."

"But – "

"No, that won't do. This one will surely be better." The man gave me another, but took that one away as well. Next he gave me a short, stumpy wand, and I began to wonder why he had bothered to measure me at all. "This one resembles your great grandmother's very much. Perhaps it will work? No, it doesn't. Such a shame."

"Er . . . "

"Perhaps a unicorn hair?" He handed me the wand. "No. It just won't cooperate, will it?"

"Um, no?" I said, hoping this was the right answer. The crazy old man ignored me, so I assumed it was correct.

Soon the desk was full of the magic sticks, and I was beginning to seriously doubt this man. But then, when Mr. Ollivander went back to the shelves one last time, a mysterious glint appeared in his moony eyes. He opened the box, and pulled out a long branch.

"Fourteen inch ash . . ._ Thestral_ Hair." I wondered why he had emphasized the word as he gave me an old looking wand. But before I could come up with a decision on why he acted this way, a feeling of warmth and power spread through me. It happened as soon as I touched the wand, and I immediately knew that this was the wand for me. It was as though the wand and I were connected in some way . . . like we belonged together; an old friend, almost.

"I wonder," I suddenly remembered the presence of Ollivander; I had forgotten about him in the amazement, "why you received this wand, when there were so many others to choose you."

"Come again?"

"The wand chooses the wizard, Alice," the man said, whispering his words hoarsely. "This wand in particular is over a thousand years old."

I held the wand in my hand, feeling a bit creeped out. "Well, I'll – um – just . . . pay you and leave . . . now." I gave him seven of the big gold galleons, then left as fast as I could.

"So did you get your wand?" Sprout's words caught me off guard; I had forgotten she was there! I held up my wand, and she gave an approving nod. "A bit dusty, isn't it? Ah, well. Now, let's get you some robes."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, wanting to get as far away from _Ollivanders_ that I could. The thought of seeing that man again sent chills down my back.

We walked past several of shops, such as _Gambol & Japes_, and _Magical Menagerie_, and eventually we got to _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. It wasn't a big store, but it was larger than the wand shop, and much more well kept.

I stepped into the robe shop, and found a friendly looking, squat woman attending to a tall, red haired boy about the age of my brother; fifteen, maybe. I cleared my throat, and she moved her head away from the scarlet robes to look at me.

"Hogwarts, or dress robes?" the woman asked sweetly. The boy she was sizing looked rather annoyed, but said nothing as I replied.

"Hogwarts, please."

"Well, excuse me then, sir, but this girl needs it for school."

The teen pursed his lips, and whispered venomously, "I have Hogwarts robes after this."

"Why, your father hasn't payed me enough for the both of them; it's either one or the other."

"Dress robes, then." She nodded, like she expected this, then she came towards me.

The woman measured me in much the way that Ollivander had, then walked into the back room, and came back with a few black robes to try on. "Try these on, and then come back with the one that fits the best, and I'll help you." The woman went back to attending him, and I decided to search for a changing room.

I came back wearing fresh, black robes, feeling rather airy in my first pair of wizard clothing. The woman, who I now guessed was Madam Malkin, was finished with her previous customer.

"You know," I heard him say. "I think I like the emerald better."

The woman sighed, and waved her wand, turning it green. "Better?" she asked, sounding annoyed.

"Much." The boy gave Madam Malkin a curt nod, then left the store, his robes floating behind him.

Malkin sighed, then drifted over to me. She held a needle and thread, and began to fit me into my robes.

Soon I was back in my camo pants, black tang top, green sweatshirt, and black tennis shoes. My robes had costed the same amount as my wand had, which made me wonder how valuable they were, but I got over it quickly. It _was_ for adolescents, which meant that I'd be getting new ones every year. It's not like I'd _want_ a high quality outfit that I would only wear for one year. I left the store carrying my new school uniform, and found Professor Sprout outside.

We stopped by _Eeylops Owl Emporium_ to get me a letter carrier next. I remember searching through hundreds of owls before finding the perfect peanut butter colored one. Being the uncreative person I am, I named him Peanut Butter. Then I changed it to Butterscotch.

Afterwards, we went to _Slug & Jiggers Apothecary_ and _Pottidge's Cauldron Shop_ to get my potions supplies. When we were at _Pottidge's_, I had my eyes on this really pretty green cauldron, but Sprout thought to buy otherwise. She thought that getting what everyone else was would be the best for my _personality development_, or whatever. Why do teachers always have to go by the rules? I mean, I don't see how getting green instead of the standard color will affect my _personality_, but apparently the teacher always knows what's right.

When we were done with that, we sorted through all sorts of book shops for my school books, but it was rather uninteresting, and I didn't pay attention half the time. I just gave them my school list and the clerks looked through the books _for_ me.

We passed by a broom shop, too, though I don't know what that was all about. Why sell brooms in the wizarding world when you could just clean your house with the flick of a wand? When I asked Sprout this, she told me that it was for Quidditch, which left me more confused than before. I decided not to ask, just in case it was one of those things that people talk about for hours at a time.

Before long, I was back in my room with wizard school supplies, and my parents still thought I was going to the Rochester boarding school in London. I wasn't sure how this was going to go. Closing my eyes, I imagined what I would say the next morning.

"_Hey, Mom! I'm a witch, did I tell you? I know that you payed lots of money for it, but I can't go to that fancy school you signed me up for, because I have to go to Hogwarts to learn magic."_

I felt myself sighing, as I pulled the covers of my bed over my body. This was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

**If you didn't understand anything, or I made a mistake, please review, and I will change it. If you have any criticism, or just want to state your opinion on the chapter, _please_ review. I would greatly appreciate it. Plus, if you review, then you'll know whether I've updated the story or not. That be a good thing, well, only if you liked it.**


	2. SM Chapter 2

**Gosh, I'm sorry about how short this chapter is! I just couldn't think of anything else to put. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, because if I did then I would sell this for money. And I don't own Rochester; it's a real school.  
**

* * *

"You know, Alice, you're going to _love _Rochester," Mum said. "I wish I'd had gone to such a nice school when I was your age. I would have given _anything_ to get away from my parents."

"_I _went to boarding school when I was younger," my step-dad, Paul, stated. "I didn't write to my parents once." Did they want to get rid of me that bad?

"You're so lucky," my mum said to Paul, giving him a kiss. "I would have given anything for that."

I had decided _not_ to tell mum or Paul about Hogwarts. They were so excited about me becoming their second _Rochester_. I sighed. Couldn't they have just gotten excited for my brother when he got in that school and been done with it? Why did they have to get excited over _me_? _If only they didn't care,_ I thought. _Then I would be able to tell them where I was actually going._

I felt the car swish to a stop, and the driver got out to open the door for us. I felt rather intimidated by the gesture. I could open the door myself, but I said nothing as Davis, my brother, and I got out. I mean, the man _was_ payed to do that. He got back in the front seat, and drove away as my mum blew me a kiss.

"Weren't they going to come with us to the train?" I heard Davis say, sounding disappointed.

"I wouldn't expect so much," I told him, looking at Davis straight in the eye. They were blue like his dad's, though he still had our mum's strawberry blonde hair. "Mum hasn't done so since she split up with Archie, and Paul just goes along with whatever she does." It was aggravating that the one decent guy our mum married had to be the one she divorced the quickest.

Davis sighed. "You're just upset because she forced you to go to Rochester." _No I'm not. I'm not even going there._ "Come on, we need to get our tickets." My brother started walking away, and I knew that I had to tell him that I wasn't going with him. I couldn't just leave him in a middle of a train station; he would search day and night if he thought I was missing.

"You only need to buy one," I said quickly, and he stopped in his tracks. He turned around, and stared at me.

"Mum never bought you your ticket," he stated, sounding appalled. "Why would you not need a ticket?"

"Because I already have mine." I held it up, and he blinked.

"That's not a ticket to London," he said stiffly, his voice quavering with uncertainty. "We need to go to London."

I took a deep breath. "I'm not going to London."

"But Mum–"

"But I never told Mum. I signed myself up for a different school." Davis stared at me with disbelief, but he knew that I was not one to lie, and I hadn't. I had never told anyone that I was going to Rochester; I just made it seem so by never objecting to it.

"What school did you sign yourself up for?" he said in a calm, yet angry voice. "And why didn't you tell me?"

I closed my eyes, wishing that I could get this over with. I hated making Davis upset. Even though we were only half-siblings, he felt like a full brother to me. I opened them again, taking another deep breath. "I'm going to Hogwarts," I said, "because I'm a witch."

"You're a witch?" he said, aghast, his voice still coated with disbelief. "You can't go to Rochester," he repeated, "because your a witch."

"Yes," I said. "Because I'm a witch."

"Is that why you're carrying an owl?" Davis scoffed, his voice getting high. "_Because you're a witch?_"

"Yeah," I replied stiffly, standing in front of Butterscotch in a protective way. "I need him for school."

"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny," he growled. "Now, come on! We have to go."

"I can't," I told him, "because I need to go to Hogwarts." I turned around, and left. "I'll send you an owl!" I could feel his stare burning through me as I walked away in the opposite direction. Even though I didn't look it, I felt guilty. Davis was my big brother, and the last thing I wanted to do was leave him hanging, but I had a train to catch. _Good-bye, Davis,_ a voice directed at him whispered through my head._ Miss you._

I stomped off through the station, when I found platform 9. I looked to the side of it, and found platform 10. I analyzed the situation, and realized that there were three barriers in between. I pulled my luggage over to the third, and stared at it. This was it: Platform 9 ¾. I pressed a hand to it, wondering if there was a secret combination on the bricks, but instead of landing on firm, solid brick, I fell face-first through the barrier, and heard a cracking sound coming from my nose.

I pushed myself off the ground, and shook the pain from my face. The clock on the wall said that I still had ten more minutes, so I decided to use that time to look for an anti-wound spell. I couldn't find any, but since I was already right next to the Hogwarts Express and surrounded by only wizards, I decided a few other spells that I had seen in my book.

"_Orchideous!_" I said, waving my wand in a wizard-like manner. A few petals puffed out of the tip, but overall it was pretty pathetic. The spell was meant to make flowers sprout from my wand, but I had obviously done it wrong. I sighed loudly, and a young woman dressed in violet robes walked over to me.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her green eyes shimmering with worry. "You're nose looks broken . . . "

"Really?" I commented. "It doesn't _feel_ like that."

"The wizarding platforms here at King's Cross have less pain spells on the ground just in case someone falls," the woman said. "Now, let me see that broken nose." She took out her wand and pointed it at my face, (which was slightly disturbing,) and said a spell. "_Episkey!_" I felt my nose move back into place, and the woman moved her wand away.

"Thank you!" I appreciated the woman's help, especially since I didn't even know her. "Who are you anyways?"

"I'm Tonks," she said, giving me a pat on the head, "but I need to go now. Good-bye." The woman Apparated away, and I stared blankly at the place where she had just stood. Then, the train whistle rang, and jolted me back into consciousness. Not giving Tonks another thought, I rushed into the train to find a seat.

A few moments after I had found an empty compartment and sat down, I heard a knock on the door, and I looked up. A boy my age opened it, and stepped in, taking a seat next to me. He had black hair, and toad green eyes.

"Hello," I said boldly. "I'm Clough. Alice Clough."

"I'm Harry Potter," he said shaking my hand. That's when I noticed that he had the most peculiar scar on his forehead. It was shaped like a lightning bolt.

At that moment, a tall red headed boy stepped in. "Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"Not at all," Harry said. I shrugged, and the boy sat in front of us.

"I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley," said the red headed boy.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry repeated to Ron, who was now staring at him in shock. There must've been something wrong with him, because he started babbling about Harry's scar, and was asking if it was real.

When Harry showed him it, Ron said, "Wicked!" and I rolled my eyes. I decided to leave, because Weasley and Potter were too busy jabbering about who scars, and it was giving me a headache.

The pathway was empty, so it was easy to find another compartment to sit at. Ron must have been mistaken when he said that 'everywhere else was full,' because there was a virtually empty one only four compartments down. I could make out a boy about my age through the compartment window, so I decided to step in and introduce myself. "I'm Alice Clough," I said politely. "Can I sit here? The last compartment I was in had two idiots obsessing over a scar."

The boy raised an eyebrow, but let me sit. "I'm Draco Malfoy, by the way," he said. I noticed that he had the same white-blonde hair as me. "So who were the idiots?"

"I think their names were Ron Weasley and Harry Potter," I said casually.

Malfoy's jaw dropped, his stormy gray eyes widening in disbelief. "Harry Potter? _The_ Harry Potter?" he exclaimed.

"Yeah," I said, thoroughly confused. "So what?" I had no idea why everyone was so amazed whenever the name 'Harry Potter' was said. The boy had a weird scar. Big deal. For all I cared, he could have twenty.

Malfoy shook his head. "I'm going to have to see this for myself. Which compartment was it?"

"About four compartments down," I told him lazily. "What's so great about him anyways?"

Malfoy looked at me in a surprised way before he stepped through the door, but then his expression hardened. "You're a Mudblood, aren't you?" he said coldly. "How else would you not know of him?" He slammed the door shut, and walked off towards Potter's compartment. One month of being a wizard, and I didn't even understand half the things I was being told. Muggle, Mudblood, Harry Potter? I didn't know these things, but apparently everybody else in the wizarding world did.

I stared blankly at the chair across from me. I was pretty sure Mudblood was some sort of an insult, but I didn't exactly know what it meant. I didn't want to call someone it and then have them look at me funny. Maybe it meant that I was stupid? But that couldn't be it; the boy had looked at me like I was a repulsive slug, not a brainless idiot. When he came back in our compartment looking very angry, I decided to ask him.

"What's a Mudblood?" He glared at me, but when I continued to look confused, he gave up.

"Muggle-borns," he spat in disgust. "Don't you know anything?"

I blinked. "What's a Muggle-born?"

"Apparently not," he growled, spitting venomously at me. "It means that neither of your parents are magic."

"Oh."

No one spoke for a while, but then I thought of something. "What's Hogwarts like?" I asked eagerly. Normally I wouldn't be excited for a boarding school, but a _magic_ boarding school? That would be awesome!

The boy glared at me angrily, like I was committing a sin just by talking to him. "Why would I tell _you_?"

"Um . . . because I _asked_?" I said in a stating-the-obvious kind of way. He turned his head away, not saying a word. He was giving me the silent treatment, and for something that I couldn't even control! Oh, this boy made me mad! "Hey, are you deaf or something? I asked you a question." Malfoy stuck his tongue at me triumphantly, so I kicked him in the shin.

"_Ow_!" he yelled, holding his hurt leg. "What was that for?"

"For ignoring me. Now," I said, pulling out my wand threateningly. "Answer. My. Question."

"Uh," he said, sounding nervous. "There are these Hogwarts Houses, called Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin, and each student gets sorted into one of the houses . . . " As he spoke, I smiled, feeling quite pleased with myself.

"So what's up with the houses?" I asked. "What's the point of that?"

"Well," Malfoy said, still rubbing his hurt leg, "each house has a different mascot and quality. Ravenclaws are really smart, and their mascot is the eagle. Hufflepuffs are supposed to be loyal, but it's really the house for those who don't fit in anywhere else, if you ask me. The badger's their mascot, though I think it should be something like a mouse or a squirrel."

He was right; Hufflepuff _did_ sound lame, but I didn't want him badmouthing all of the houses just in case he talked me in to going to a certain one, so I kicked him again.

"Hey, what was that for!" Malfoy screeched, holding his now probably bruised leg.

I laughed shrilly, and he frowned angrily at me. My voice became serious again, and I said, "I don't want you to convince me of joining a certain house by cursing all the other ones!" Malfoy bared his teeth at me, but continued his speech on Hogwarts anyways.

"Gryffindor is for brave wizards, and their symbol is the lion," this seemed sensible, as many people considered the lion to be a very brave creature, "and Slytherin is for those who are cunning and resourceful, and their the snake," he finished, still sounding like he was in pain.

"I think Slytherin sounds the most like me; the rest don't even seem close!" I declared. "Besides, snakes are cool."

Malfoy scoffed at me. "Slytherin? Mudbloods _never _get into Slytherin! Only us Pure-bloods deserve such rewards. Occasionally a Half-blood or two will sneak in, but _never_ a Mudblood." Of course. He didn't want me contaminating his house. Typical thoughts of an idiot.

"How would _I_ know that?" I snapped, mockery in my voice. "I'm just a _stupid_ Mudblood!"

"You got that right," I heard him say under his breath, and I scowled at him angrily. Stupid Pure-bloods! Stupid Slytherins! Why were they so mean?

I didn't give Malfoy another glance as we waited out our journey to Hogwarts. Maybe I was stuck in this compartment with the stupidest person in the world, but at least they weren't those guys that were in the first one I had been in. I shuttered. Just thinking about them blabbering about Potter's scar all over me gave me a headache. At least with Malfoy, I got some peace and quiet.

"I'm going to get dressed into my Hogwarts robes," he finally said, getting up to leave our compartment. "You should do the same." I nodded, still not looking at him, and headed down the 'hall' to find the girls changing room.

I heard the intercom turn on and remind everyone on the train that we were almost to Hogwarts, and to get into our uniforms if not done already. Immediately, everyone rushed out of their compartments and formed a line behind me to get into the changing rooms, and I was glad Malfoy had told me to get changed when he did. I stepped inside holding my Hogwarts robes, and decided _not_ to tell him thanks. I wouldn't give Malfoy the satisfaction.

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**Tell me what you think, and don't forget to review! Okay, those _are_ the same things, well, unless you PM me about the story instead of reviewing, but that would be pretty pointless unless you wanted to say something that no one else should know.**

**Er. . . I'm rambling. Sorry.  
**


	3. SM Chapter 3

**Okay, I know; this chapter is agonizingly short. Sorry, but school started and I'd rather spend my time getting good grades than having fun. I know, it sounds crappy, but I want to _stay_ in Honors Math.**

**Anyways, I would like to thank the user Sean Mulligan for being my first and only reviewer for this story. I really _do_ like reviews. You may not know it, but every review is a compliment to the writer, and us writers really do take your suggestions into consideration. We're writing for the reader, you see. . .**

**Disclaimer: Why would I write a fanfiction for my own book? If you think that I'm J.K. Rowling, then get a life. No offense.  
**

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"Firs' Years! Firs' Years! This way!" A bunch of kids about my age rushed over to a giant man with a shaggy black beard. I quickly followed them, and we all hopped onto four-man boats, sailing off towards a magnificent castle.

By the time I got there, the only other empty seat was Malfoy's boat. The other two people in the boat were two boys called Crabbe and Goyle. Personally, I thought that Goyle was a horribly ugly name. I told him so, but he just glared at me, angrily muttering, "_Mudblood_."

I looked over at the other boats, and saw that Potter and Weasley were traveling with this one girl whose hair looked like a rag, and a nervous looking boy who seemed to be muttering about a toad. I sighed, and looked up at the starry sky, wondering why I was here. I didn't _belong_ here! Yeah, I was a witch and all, but I was raised by Muggles, for Merlin's sake! These wizard families were already prejudice of me because of it. _Why_? Because I was a bloody Mudblood – an outsider to the wizarding world. I bared my teeth at the moon above, fuming on about the whole thing. I was such an idiot for accepting that invitation to Hogwarts; what would my mum do if she found out? _Just shut up and die already,_ I thought angrily. _No one's going to miss you if you do!_ I thought for a moment. _Except Davis. Everyone but Davis._

Crabbe snorted at me, and I looked at him coldly. "_What_?" A silly grin stretched upon his chubby little face.

"You were growling at the moon," he teased. "It was funny." At once, all three of the other passengers on the boat (including me) glared at him. He looked suddenly uncomfortable in the spotlight of our gaze, and I smiled at his discomfort. I guess abandoning my brother at Kings Cross was almost worth this.

Almost.

I still felt guilty about the whole thing, but at least that meant that I had a heart, very much unlike the buffoons on my boat. Speaking of which, they were getting off. I suddenly realized that the boat had stopped moving, and I got out as well. Crabbe was the last of the blokes to leave – he was so fat that he splashed mounds of water all over me – and I gave him the death glare, making him cower away. Quite pleased with myself, I decided to continue to walk with the group of first years towards the magnificent castle of Hogwarts.

I walked with the giant man who was guiding us, as I obviously wasn't wanted with Malfoy and his friends – not that I wanted to be; I was perfectly fine walking with the shaggy old git.

When we got to the doors of the castle, the giant man left, and a thin woman with a stern look on her face and tight, black hair tied into a bun came through the door.

She beckoned us in, and after walking through a long hallway, she stopped us. "I am Professor McGonagall," the stern-looking woman said. "Now, before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin." McGonagall's eyes lingered on us for a few more seconds before guiding us into the room. We followed her, and once we were through, I stopped in my tracks. It _was_ Great.

There were four long tables below us, which were each seating what seemed like hundreds of wizards, and filled with golden plates and silverware. On the stage where I was standing, there was yet another table, this one having only enough room for thirteen. It was seated with what looked like staff members, with the middle seat being for an old, wrinkled man with a long, silver beard. Only one place was empty, which I guessed was for Professor McGonagall to sit at.

I switched my gaze over to the middle of the stage, which a small stool, and a ragged hat sat. McGonagall pulled out a large scroll from her robes and unrolled it slowly, but not before the hat started moving. Yeah, I know. It was alive.

The first thing it did was twitch its black flaps. Before I could even comprehend what had just happened, the large hole in the middle started to move, and it actually began to sing.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, _

_But don't judge on what you see, _

_I'll eat myself if you can find _

_A smarter hat than me. _

_You can keep your bowlers black, _

_Your top hats sleek and tall, _

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat _

_And I can cap them all. _

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see, _

_So try me on and I will tell you _

_Where you ought to be. _

_You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _

_Set Gryffindors apart; _

_You might belong in Hufflepuff, _

_Where they are just and loyal, _

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _

_And unafraid of toil; _

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, _

_If you've a ready mind, _

_Where those of wit and learning, _

_Will always find their kind; _

_Or perhaps in Slytherin _

_You'll make your real friends, _

_Those cunning folk us any means _

_To achieve their ends. _

_So put me on! Don't be afraid! _

_And don't get in a flap! _

_You're in safe hands(though I have none)_

_For I'm the Thinking Cap!" _

I stared at it, my mouth hanging open and my blue eyes bulging. It was a much better singer than I thought a hat would be – that is, if I had ever considered it before. I mean, wouldn't you think of a hat as a bad singer? Anyways, that's when McGonagall started reading from her scroll.

"Granger, Hermione," she said after looking at it for a few seconds. Perhaps her glasses were too thin? They didn't appear to be of much use, really.

The girl with the bushy brown hair that I had seen on Potter and Weasley's boat jumped up onto the chair below the hat excitedly. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on the girl's head, and after a few moments . . . "GRYFFINDOR!" The table farthest to the left clapped and cheered as she rushed over happily. After the sound died away, McGonagall announced the next name, "Bones, Susan," and a plump looking girl with stiff brown hair was sorted into Hufflepuff.

The sorting on went on for a while. Malfoy and his friends went to Slytherin, while Potter, Weasley, and that other boy who was in the boat with them (who was named Neville Longbottom, I should say) went to Gryffindor. Then, it was my turn.

I took a deep breath, as the professor called "Clough, Alice" and I sat onto the chair. There were only two kids to sort after me, but still, every eye in the Great Hall was on me; every student wondering if I would be in their house.

The hat was placed on my head.

I pretty much hated everyone that I had already seen seen, and they'd been sorted into all four of the houses, so there wasn't a neutral one for me to take. Well, Hufflepuff only had that Susan Bones girl who really disturbed me, but still, would you _want_ to be in a useless house? I began thinking about which houses that I would be in. What were my options again? I thought for a moment, the hat's song echoing in my mind.

_You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart._ I wasn't _brave_; I was a bloody coward for all I could tell. I mean, I couldn't even tell mum and Paul that I was a witch! How much worse could it get?

_You might belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil._ Just? Loyal? Those words seemed foreign in my mind. Like Malfoy said, Hufflepufflers were lame. But was I lame? No. Not like that.

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, will always find their kind._ I didn't think of myself that lowly. I wasn't a nerd.

_Or perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk us any means to achieve their ends. _I was a Muggle-born. I _couldn't _be in Slytherin.

The hat just sat there on my head, saying nothing. The wait was agonizingly long – longer than it took for Potter to be sorted – and I began to wonder if I was even a witch at all . . .

But then, it whispered something in my ear. _You would do well in Slytherin._

_

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_**Oh, and on the part where it says "he was so fat that he splashed mounds of water all over me," I just want to let you know that this is Alice talking, not me. Every person has their faults, and unfortunately, some people's faults are the fact that they're picky about looks. Personally, I think that being picky about looks is a load of bullshit (excuse my language), but apparently some people do only look at the outside - not the inside. I apologize to anyone who was offended.**

**Don't forget, review, review, REVIEW! If you want to say that this fic sucks, then just say so, but remember to say _why_ and I may be able to fix it. If someone actually gives me good criticism, then I just may mention their name in the next chapter. And don't forget: review!  
**


	4. SM Chapter 4

**Well, I managed to put more in this chapter than the last, so that's a good sign. I probably won't update again until next weekend, though.**

**And thank you to the two people who reviewed. Of course, I'll write whether I get reviews or not, but it still makes me feel so much more loved when I get them.**

**I hadn't realized that the sorting was in alphabetical order! Oh well; I guess I'll just keep that in mind for if I write a sequel to this. . .**

**Disclaimer: If you think that this crap is written by J.K. Rowling, then you're an idiot. And once again, Rochester is not mine; it's a real school in London.  
**

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"SLYTHERIN!" The table farthest to the left erupted in cheers – at least, the people who didn't know about my blood purity cheered. McGonagall took the hat off my head, and I silently stepped off the stage and headed over to the Slytherin table with a blank expression on my face. I wasn't happy about getting into the house . . . or sad. I mean, getting into a non-lame house was pretty decent, but the fact that they would all hate me wasn't. Would _you_ want your entire house hating you?

I saw a girl on the Slytherin table that I recognized from the sorting and sat down next to her. She had long, yellow-blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. It looked odd on her tanned skin, but I guess that's what the awkward stage is for. She turned to me as I sat down, and nodded slightly.

"Should I call you Alice, or Clough?" she asked stiffly, making me feel immediately uncomfortable.

"Well, that depends," I replied hesitantly. "Are we going to be friends or enemies?"

"I guess we'll see." Okay, I'd never met someone who acted like that. Were all Slytherins like this? "I'm Tracey Davis. If you don't mind me asking, what's your purity?"

I flashed her an angry stare. "What's it to you?"

"My mum doesn't want me hanging around with Mudbloods," she told me.

"Then you've got a rotten mum," I replied coldly, staring at her straight in the eye. "But I'll call you Tracey, because Davis is my brother's name."

The girl tilted her head slightly, emotions free of her face. "Then I would request that you found a different seat," she stated. "My blood's already tainted enough." I glared at her coldly, but said nothing as I switched seats to one in between a weedy looking boy my age, and another maybe two years older. They both ignored me as McGonagall called the next name.

"Greengrass, Daphne," the old woman read, and a brown haired girl with fair skin rushed up to sit on the stool. McGonagall placed the sorting hat on her head, and only moments later, it blurted "SLYTHERIN!" louder than I ever could have imagined. She must've been a Pure-blood or something, because she was sorted almost as fast as Malfoy was!

The girl rushed over to our table with a huge grin on her face as we cheered, and sat right next to Tracey. They seemed to be making immediate friends, so I knew that we definitely weren't going to make friends. I looked up to see the last first year sorted.

"Turpin, Lisa!" I saw a girl with light brown hair bounce over to the sorting hat. She didn't take long to be sorted either, and she was placed in Ravenclaw. She sat at the cheering table closest to us, and when she got closer, I realized that her hair wasn't a brown, but a nice shade of strawberry blonde. She had a nice shade of caramel coloured eyes, and over all was very pretty. Well, except for the fact that her face was shaped like a hawk's, but at least her colouring was okay.

Before I got a chance to introduce myself to my new house, everyone found themselves looking up at the stage to see the old, bearded man stand up. "Welcome!" he said, beaming at us in a pleased way. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down as everyone clapped and cheered, and Alice became once again unsure of herself.

"Excuse me?" I said to the third year sitting next to me. He turned and looked at me, as if only just realizing that I was there. "Is he a bit mad?"

"Dumbledore, you mean?" he asked. I nodded my head in reply. "Well – yes – but he's a genius, as well. What's you're name, anyways?"

"Alice Clough," I stated uncertainly. Was he going to ask me to move, as well?

"I'm Adrian Pucey," he told me. He then looked away to eat.

Wait . . . _eat_?

I looked down to see the table filled with every type of food that I could think of. After staring at it with my mouth hung open for a few minutes, the weedy boy in my year – who turned out to be called Theodore Nott – asked me what was wrong with me, and I snapped out of it.

After helping myself to some roast beef, a white shape flew over to the table, waving a sword wildly. I ducked as it slashed over my head, and the ghost stopped to float above me. He was a horrible looking ghost with blank eyes that sent chills up my spine. His rich robes were stained with silver blood, and his gaunt face completed the look of a very scary looking man. After glaring at me for a moment, he sank back down into the ground, and popped back up again next to Malfoy, who, I was pleased to say, looked very uncomfortable near the Slytherin ghost.

The meal was replaced with desert, though not many of the Slytherins seemed to have enough appetite to eat, as they must have all seen the ghost. I nibbled a bit of a chocolate éclair, but still felt sick from looking at the Bloody Baron. Soon the desert disappeared as well, and we all looked up to see that Dumbledore had stood up again, and cleared his throat loudly.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupil. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Normally I would have laughed at something like that, but I still felt queasy from looking at all the ghosts who were still flying around. Instead, I coughed a bit in reply, unsure of what to believe. Most teachers would have told the students why not to do something. Was everything in the wizarding world really this blunt?

"And now, before we go to bed," said Dumbledore, "let us sing the school song!" The man held up his wand like a conductor of a song, and a gold ribbon flew out of it, and twisted into cursive words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the song at a different times in different tunes, over all making the song sound really bad. Not many of the first years had chosen to sing the song, as we already felt like bloody idiots without.

Dumbledore finished conducting the song, and clapped loudly to the screechy song. "Ah, music," he said, wiping a tear from his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

All the students got up from their tables and followed their house prefects to their common rooms. The Slytherins and I followed ours down to the dungeons. On the door to the common room was the metal carving of a hissing snake. Then, it began to move, and faced us.

"Password?" it hissed angrily, as if we had disturbed its sleep. The snake blinked at us, giving a cold stare, and a couple first years flinched away.

"Chimaera's tail," the prefect said, and the door swung open. As we walked in, I wondered if all the passwords would have something to do with the house animal – after all, a Chimaera's tail _was_ a snake.

When we were all inside, the Slytherin prefects handed us all green and silver ties and emblems to wear on our school uniforms. We were guided to our dormitories, and sent to bed. I turned out to be roommates with Pansy Parkinson and Tracey Davis. I sighed loudly as they snickered at me (Tracey had told Parkinson that I was Muggle-born), and went straight to bed – well, at least I tried.

Long after lights out, I decided that I might as well write a letter to Davis. I took out a quill and a bit of parchment from my luggage, and began to write.

_Dear Davis,_

_I'm sorry that I left you at the station, so I'm letting you know that I'm safe at Hogwarts. How's Rochester? If Mum sends me anything, then give it to my owl (her name's Butterscotch) next time she shows up._

_Anyways, Hogwarts is amazing! I was sorted into Slytherin House (the others are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff) and the colors are my favorite – green and silver._

_I'm really sorry that I don't have much anything to say – I've only been here for a day – but I'll tell you more next time. To make my owl leave, write a letter back with my name on the back, and give it to her. I know it sounds crazy, but in the wizarding world, owls deliver our mail._

_Love,_

_Alice_

Butterscotch was already at the window, waiting for the letter. I folded it up, and gave it to her, making her fly away. A few feathers of hers flicked off onto Pansy and Tracey's beds, but I decided not to clean up after her.

Finally feeling tired, I yawned loudly, and fell fast asleep.

***

That morning, the owls came.

I was sitting in the Great Hall that morning next to an ugly boy called Marcus Flint, eating my delicious scrambled eggs and toast. Butterscotch was already back with Davis's letter, and I eagerly opened it, wondering what my brother had wrote.

I opened it quickly, but before I could look at it, Flint smirked and said, "Davis, is that your _boyfriend_?"

I made a gagging motion, and replied by saying, "Ew! He's my brother, you dumb-ass!" The boy angrily punched my arm, and I laughed wildly. "You have very little upper-body strength," I informed him. "Just thought I'd let you know."

"I'm going to duel you," he growled, anger flashing in his cold, black eyes. "Tonight in the common room."

"Deal. Just make sure you show up!" I challenged. In truth, I knew nothing about dueling. _Perhaps I _should_ pay attention in class today . . . _I shrugged it off almost immediately. _Meh. Who cares._

I drank my pumpkin juice, and Dumbledore informed us to pick up our class schedules on the way out when we were done.

I was pretty surprised that we had to get up at midnight to do Astronomy, but when I looked at my schedule, I realized that it was only on Wednesdays like today. The only other classes that we had today were Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, though I was a bit disappointed, because I had been looking forward to Transfiguration.

Then, a prefect guided us to Charms with Professor Flitwick.

Professor Flitwick was an odd fellow with unruly white hair. He was short, and sat on a pile of books to see over his desk. He gave an excited squeak whenever a student answered his questions right, and "hmm"ed whenever one answered wrongly. We had that class with the Ravenclaws, so you can imagine how joyful the little man was during the period. I sat next to a girl named Lisa Turpin, though I immediately disliked her for her know-it-all attitude.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught by a nervous looking man called Professor Quirrell. He wore a thick, funny smelling turban, which was given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a zombie. No one believed this story, so I assumed that it meant zombies weren't real (to my relief.) The classroom smelled like garlic (which made many of the students gag), and a rumor quickly spread saying that it was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania, because he was afraid it would be coming back to get him eventually. Professor Quirrell stuttered a lot, so it only added to the fact he was scared, though the Hufflepuffs in our class (especially a girl I was sitting next to, named Megan Jones) admired him greatly.

At Midnight, Daphne Greengrass and I walked up to the tallest tower of Hogwarts to go to our Astronomy class. Professor Sinistra explained to us how this year, we would be learning the names of the stars, and the movement of the planets. So far Astronomy was my favorite class; I've always liked stargazing.

The next day we had Herbology with Professor Sprout and the Hufflepuffs, and by far it was my favorite class. I was already familiar with the teacher, and I had memorized every plant and fungi taught that day by the end of class. It didn't look like anyone else was having much fun in the class though; Malfoy had fallen asleep! There was only a Hufflepuff who seemed remotely interested, and that was Hannah Abbott, a freckle-faced girl with golden-blonde hair.

History of Magic with Professor Binns was by far the worst class. Even the Ravenclaws were falling asleep as the old ghost scribbled down names and dates on the board for us to take notes on. He kept getting the names mixed up, and many of us were wondering whether he knew if he was dead or not. Tracey eventually got up the nerve to throw a wad of paper at the ghost, but it shot straight through Professor Binns without him seeming to notice, though after class he gave her detention without explanation. Guess he noticed afte all.

When lunch came that day, I already had a major headache. I had decided to sit next to Daphne, and we've hated each other since then. I guess she only had walked up to class with me because she hadn't known my blood purity. It turned out that _every_ Pure-blood Slytherin would hate me, I guessed.

I still hadn't read the note from Davis, so I thought that I might as well.

_Dear Alice,_

_Where are you? I miss you; why couldn't you just come with me? I'm dying here, you know. And they wrote to Mum saying that you didn't show up; they're going to go crazy! You're going to have to tell them you left eventually . . ._

_Love,_

_Davis_

I was a bit disappointed at its shortness, but at least he had given time out of his day to write. After eating, I wrote back to him describing my classes, and telling him how much luckier he was to actually have the ability to make friends at his school. I dropped the letter off at the owlery before class, silently wondering to myself if Hogwarts was worth it at all.

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**Don't forget to review, and tell me what you think. I can only get better with criticism!**

**Oh, and I now see that I did the schedule wrong. Thanks to sci-fi-rocks, I have corrected my mistake. Also, I changed the small spelling mistake that Sean Mulligan pointed out.**

**Though it says that "it meant that zombies didn't exist (to my relief)" that means that at the time, that's what Alice thought it meant, not that it officially means that zombies don't exist in the wizarding world.  
**


	5. SM Chapter 5

**I was going to include Tonks but . . . she graduated the year _before_ this takes place! How horrible.**

**I'm sorry that this took so long, and that it's so short. It's just that I hurt my finger in P.E. and it's kind of hard to type with a little splint . . . And also my mom took my computer away twice.**

**Oh, and I fixed up the last chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything that Snape or McGonagall says in this chapter.  
**

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Friday was probably the best day ever. I had been told that the Potions Master, Professor Snape, wasn't one to be favored, but they were wrong. Snape favored us Slytherins, no matter what our purity.

Potions lessons took place near the Slytherin common room at the dungeons, resulting in it being quite a bit colder than the other classrooms, but I didn't mind it – I _loved_ the cold. When I first stepped into the room, I had even smirked at the unhealthy looking animals who were bottled up in the glass jars, as it could only make me fantasize of what this class was really all about.

The greasy haired Snape started class with roll call, and paused at the sound of Harry Potter's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_." Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and I started sniggering, but I stopped when I realized that we were the only ones. Professor Snape didn't seem to notice, and went back to roll call.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began when he was finished with roll. The man spoke in barely more than a whisper, but we caught every word he had to offer. There was an odd aura around him, that seemed to make everyone cease their foolhardy behavior and listen. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here," he continued, "many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame –" That perked me up. "– brew glory –" Really!? "– even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." _Oh._

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly, making me jump in my seat. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Oh please, that was obvious, but Potter just sat there, dumbfounded. Granger's hand flew up into the air, and the only reason why mine didn't was because it was Potter that Snape had called on, not me.

"I don't know, sir," said Potter, whispering this softly, in a humiliated way.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything." He continued to ignore Granger's hand. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" As Granger's hand went up again, I could hear Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle shaking with laughter, though I doubt that they knew the answer either.

"I don't know, sir," Potter repeated quietly, making me wonder how smart these wizards really were._ A goat's stomach,_ I thought. _Duh. _Granger's hand was still quivering in the air, when Snape said:

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape straightened himself up, and once again, asked an impossible question (though it wasn't impossible for _me_.) "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" At this point, Granger shot out of her chair, holding her hand up as high as it could reach._ Is she deaf?_ I thought, smirking. _He said _Potter_, not _Granger_!_

"I don't know," Potter said once again quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few Gryffindors laughed at this, but Snape remained unfazed by the students' behavior.

"Sit down," Professor Snape snapped at Granger, who moped back down to her seat. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Dead. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" _Because I already know this,_ I thought, but I still wrote it down anyways. "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." I smirked, and continued to write through the rustling sound of the quills.

Next, Snape put us all into pairs (my partner was a Gryffindor who went by the name of Darlene Trout) to mix a simple potion on how to cure boils. I thought it was easy, and would've finished right away if it weren't for my idiot partner. She caused the potion to explode in my face, even after I told her that we had to crush the snake fangs like how the directions told us instead of chopping them. Professor Snape ended up yelling at us, and when I asked for another partner, he switched me to another Slytherin named Millicent Bulstrode, who wasn't quite as prejudice as the others, but still prejudice all the same. She resolved in not touching anything that I did, resulting in me doing the entire potion, much to my oblige. Our potion turned out fantastically.

Two Gryffindors, Longbottom's and Finnegan's, cauldron somehow managed to get melted into a twisted blob, causing their potion to spill holes everywhere, and everyone to jump onto their chairs. Longbottom got the full blast of the potion, causing angry red boils to pop up all over his arms and legs.

Professor Snape yelled at the boy, then took another point away from Gryffindor because Potter hadn't helped them. I felt myself laughing with glee at the pain of the Gryffindors, and was joined by a few other Slytherins. The class went on wonderfully for another hour, and soon I was off to Transfiguration.

We had class with the Ravenclaws again, and I decided to sit beside a boy named Terry Boot. We actually talked a bit before class, but we didn't get a chance afterwards when Professor McGonagall walked in. Like Snape, she knew how to keep the class quiet with no effort at all.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." I seemed to be the only one who understood the double meaning behind her words.

Then drew out a slender, long wand, and tapped it on her desk, turning it into a pig. Everyone gasped, and gasped again when she changed it back. We started our class by changing matches into toothpicks, and though I got the farthest out of everyone, it only turned a bit silver and had a sleek edge to it – no metal there.

Finally, there were no more classes for the day, and can you guess what I did? Homework.

***

I got a letter from Davis during dinner that night.

_I got a letter from our family yesterday. Mum's pregnant again, and Paul isn't happy about it. I'm worried._

_-Davis_

I stared blankly at those words, trying to make sense of them. Mum? Pregnant? Of course, I had always known how Davis and I had been brought into the world, but I had never imagined myself a big sister. And Paul . . . and Paul wasn't happy about it. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out what would happen next. What could I write?

I folded the letter into a neat square, and threw it onto the ground, hoping someone would squash it with their feet. As I stood up to leave the Great Hall, I was dimly aware of a pale blonde boy picking up the letter from the ground, but I didn't care. Malfoy could do whatever he wanted with the information, and it wouldn't bother me one bit, not until grindylows flew. At least, that's what I thought.

***

"You're parents are divorced?" was the first thing I heard when I walked out of my dormitory that Saturday morning. The prejudice Blaise Zabini was the Slytherin speaking these words, and I found myself immediately feel lust for him (oddly.)

"Well," I said to the cute first year, batting by eyelashes. "Yes they are." I found Blaise to be a very attractive young man, if I were to say it properly. He had dark brown skin, and handsome brown hair and eyes. His features were less than beautiful, except for the eyes that drew me in.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to infatuate me?" he asked. I let out a snort.

"Heh . . . Pfff . . . No."

"Right. Um, anyways, why'd your brother have to write to you; isn't he here?" Blaise said, and I instantly felt uncomfortable.

"I'm a Muggle-born," I said quietly. "He doesn't _go_ here." The boy's bright smile turned into a frown, and his face hardened into a cold stone.

"Mudblood," he growled. "I can't believe I tricked myself into talking to _you_." With that, he turned away and left the common room, leaving me feeling worse than ever. Why was it that the one cute guy that I had met was prejudice?

I turned back into the girl's dormitory, and cried.

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	6. SM Chapter 6

**I'm so sorry it took so long! Well, on the bright side, this chapter is the longest so far.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Alice, her family, and a few personalities of characters. *Thinks for a moment.* I _think_ that's it.  
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"Flying lessons are on Thursday," the weakly Theodore Nott told me one morning. "We've got them with Gryffindor." I nodded in reply to this, not really caring as he walked away. He was one of the two Slytherins that I had met who weren't prejudice, the other being Adrian Pucey. Nott was a tall and thin boy with a weak built, making him look awfully nerdy. He had short black hair that grew flat against his head, and glasses over his intense blue eyes. On the contrary, Pucey was a handsome chaser for the Slytherin team in his third year with dark brown hair and black eyes.

Anyways, I decided to go ask Pucey for some flying lessons – just in case. I found him studying in the library that evening with his fourth year girlfriend, Annabel Lows, a Hufflepuff. When he saw me, he raised up his arm, shouting, "Oi! Clough – over here!" I rushed over to ask him for the favor.

"Um, Pucey? We're starting flying lessons on Thursday, so I was wondering if you could teach me? I don't want to make a fool out of myself, you see," I told him, waiting for his reply. Lows grinned at me while I said this, but I had no idea why. "So can you teach me?"

"Sorry, Clough," Pucey said, "but McGonagall's had us transfiguring white rabbits into slippers. I keep giving them whiskers you see . . . "

"I could help you," Lows commented, surprising me. "I was the Seeker last year, but I'm pretty decent at the other positions, too."

"But we're on different Houses," I exclaimed, shocked at her proposition. "Why do you want to help me?"

She just smiled, revealing her pearly white teeth. "Any friend of Adrian's is a friend of mine." Pucey smiled gratefully as she said this, giving him a kiss on his forehead. As I left, I could hear the girl saying to him, "She's just adorable! Our kids will be like that, won't they?"

Wait . . . _Me_? _Adorable_? This girl was insane! Adorable, she calls me. Just because I'm a first year, doesn't mean she shouldn't take me seriously . . .

I could hear Pucey grunt in surprise at the whole 'Our kids will be like that' thing, and it made me laugh. I'd heard him complain about Lows being too clingy, but I had never though it was _that_ bad!

***

Herbology was unbearable that Wednesday morning. I usually liked the class, but I just wanted to start Quidditch! We were starting flying lessons in the afternoon the next day, but I was too excited to wait. Lows was giving me lessons again today after class.

"Now," huffed Professor Sprout, holding up a large golden plant. "There are many types of Aconitum. This one, for example, is aconite, also known as monkshood and wolfsbane. The aconite flowers are very useful for potion making – I'm sure Professor Snape has told you – but what he may not have mentioned is that the leaves are very toxic, which is why these plants should _always_ be handled with gloves." She held up her gloved hand for emphasis. "What are you waiting for? Put them on." We pulled our gloves on to handle to plants. Then, we spent the rest of the class separating the flowers and the leaves for Professor Snape's storage.

"I think there's a hole in mine," Nott said tearfully after a few minutes, clutching his finger tightly. "It _hurts_!"

"No, Nott; it's just a splinter in the tip. Give it here." Nott handed her his dragon hide gloves, and she fiddled with it for a bit. "Here you are." Then a little more loudly, "Remember to wash your gloves off after class _before_ taking them off! We don't want anyone going off to the Hospital Wing with aconite poisoning." Nott looked nervous, but nothing went wrong after that, despite his occasional whimper in pain. Once it was over, I headed straight to the Quidditch Field to start another training session. I scrambled through the halls, eager to begin. I ran into Peeves once, but after easily dodging his many water balloons, I screamed at him, saying that _real_ Poltergeists didn't just throw balloons. He growled at me, and I sneered at him as he floated angrily away. By the time I finally got to the Quidditch Pitch, Lows was already standing there waiting for me. She was wearing fancy Quidditch robes (her own, no doubt), holding a Nimbus 2000, and her mousy brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. I grabbed a broom, and headed over.

Lows and I had decided that I would probably be the best at being a Seeker, as I was good at pinpointing small objects in the air, and had the right build to me – light and speedy. I was always a little shaky on my broom, though, and being in the air only made me more nervous, but Lows told me that everyone felt like that at first. Since she didn't want to accidentally lose the Golden Snitch, she enchanted a few golf balls for me to chase after. I didn't catch any, but it was fun all the same. When the dinner bell rang, I was extremely exhausted, and took a nice long shower before heading down to eat.

Pucey was talking to his third year friends, so I decided to sit with Nott that night. When he started telling me about the complex theory of magic, I tuned him out, and picked out a large chicken leg to eat. When it became apparent to Nott that I wasn't listening, he stopped talking and grudgingly took a bite of his own dinner, muttering something about how even his mum never listened to him. After dinner, we headed up to observe the stars planets again. For Astronomy, there was going to be a test soon, and Professor Sinistra had instructed us to come up with memory cues for each of the star constellations.

"Well," I said to my good friend, Nott. "Orion looks like a dancing gorilla, and the first three letters of Orion matches up with the second, third, and fourth letters of gorilla." He nodded his head in agreement.

"And doesn't Fornax look just like a diagonal line?" Nott replied, scribbling his cue down. "A good way to remember it is that it's right next to Eridanus." I stared at him, my mouth hanging open.

"Okay, I give you a straight out, easy to remember memory cue," I shot at him, "and you give me _nothing_?"

Nott shrugged. "Well it seems easy enough to me."

"I'm _sorry_, but not _everyone_ has _photographic_ _memory_ like _you_!"

"I don't have a photographic memory," he replied calmly, not even looking at me as he wrote down a few more _useless_ cues. "I just study." I looked away, frustrated, and refused to talk to him for the rest of the night.

After class, Professor Sinistra took me aside. "Miss Clough? Professor Dumbledore would like to see you. Come." Confused, I followed Professor Sinistra through the halls of Hogwarts to the Headmaster's office.

There we stood at the foot of an ugly gargoyle. At first it only glared at us, but then Professor Sinistra said the password ("Pepper Imps") and a staircase started to form around it. Sinistra guided me up, and knocked at the door to Dumbledore's office. It swung open, and the headmaster beckoned me in.

"Why thank you, Aurora," the old bearded man said. Sinistra nodded, and gave me a sharp look before leaving. I nervously walked over to Professor Dumbledore, and waited for him to speak.

"Alice, your mother is here to see you," said the man, his half-moon glasses glinting curiously, and for the first time I noticed Mum sitting there next to him, folding her arms angrily. "I am guessing that you signed the Hogwarts letter yourself? Clever use of magic . . . It was an exact copy. Anyways, why would you do this?"

"Um, well, you see, Mum wanted me to go to Rochester – " I began, only to be cut off by my mum's explosion

"Well you could have just _asked_! Or _told me_!" she shrieked. "What were you thinking, going off to Hogwarts, thinking no one would notice. I had to learn this from your brother! As soon as I saw the mention of magic in that letter, I _knew_ that you were just like my grandmother. Even _I _know that it's illegal for a wizard your age to go without training – I'm not about to break the _law_! When _you_ come home for Christmas, I'm going to – " Both the headmaster and I knew that my mum was prepared to go on forever, but Dumbledore quickly silenced her.

"Now, Adeline; I doubt she knows nearly as much as you do about the wizarding world," he flattered her, which relieved me quite a bit. "She's only just learned of its existence a few months ago, while you've known of it all your life. No one could assume that she knows of all the rules." Mum gave out a huff, but stayed silent on her belief.

"Alright, Professor Dumbledore," she replied coldly. "I'll be going, then."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "If you would like to speak with each other before you separate again, then please do so. In the meantime, I will be drinking tea with young Hagrid. He makes wonderful rock cakes, you see." And with that, the old silver bearded man left.

"Mum?" I asked suddenly, having been a bit curious of this since the moment I had entered Hogwarts. "What House was Great-Grandmum in?"

"What? Oh – Ravenclaw, I think. She was quite smart, and could figure things out even without using her Legimency. She also was an animagus – I remember her transforming into a horse so we could ride her when I was a child."

"And my Great-Granddad – who was he?"

"A wizard named Bernard Longbottom, who was a Gryffindor. They were both pure-blood wizards, so it was quite a shock for them when they found out that their only child – my mother – was a Squib, which means that she was a Muggle born to a wizard family. They had high hopes for me, but I never showed the signs of magic . . . " It was a bit of a shock that I was distantly related to Longbottom, but then when I thought about it, I realized that our ears poked out in the same sort of way, and that we had slightly similar noses. (I silently cursed myself for ever thinking he was weird looking.) I guessed that meant that Longbottom and I were fifth cousins once removed, or something along those lines.

"So Davis has no chance of being a wizard?" I asked, though already knowing the answer.

"No." I had already learned that children usually started showing chance of wizardry at the ages of seven or eight. Davis was fifteen, and the farthest late-bloom that I'd heard of was at age ten. We stared at each other for a few minutes, unsure of what to say. I'd never really had a one-on-one conversation with my mum. Not really. Yes, we'd talked to each other before, but it was never a sincere, deep conversation. Never like this.

"So I hear you're pregnant," I said blankly, finally getting up the nerve to break the silence. "Davis told me."

"Yeah," she said. Her hand moved up to her stomach in a protective manner, but she looked scared. For the first time, I noticed she looked sad – heartbroken, even.

"Mum? Tell me what Paul did." She said nothing. "Tell me _now_."

"Left," she finally answered, choking up a sob. I'd never seen my mum so sad. She was always so happy, but now . . . now she wasn't. "I told him 'bout the baby," Mum cried, wiping tears from her eyes. "An' that night 'e left. 'aven't even told your bro'er 'e left yet. 'ot sure what 'e's goin' to say."

Then I did something that I had never done for with mom. I hugged her. "You need to pick better guys, Mum," I told her solemnly. "You need to know whether he loves you first."

"I know, dear. I'm just not very good at choosing, am I?" She gave me a weak smile. "Sometimes I need a little help."

"I'm sorry, Mum," I told her, looking at my mum straight in the eye. I could see the little droplets of tears forming in there. "But sometimes you're just on your own." I stepped away, letting her know that our conversation was over. "I need to go back to class now." I turned around, heading out the door. "Bye." Even as I left, I could feel my mum's eyes burning through me. "And by the way," I said, my whisper barely audible, "I'm _not _coming back for Christmas."

It was then when I began to wonder why nobody had ever mentioned my great ancestor Bernard Longbottom before.

***

The Gryffindors were late. Nott, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Greengrass, Parkinson, Tracey, Bulstrode, and I were already at the Quidditch Pitch with Madam Hooch, but not a single one of the Gryffindors had showed yet.

"Maybe they're scared," I heard Malfoy gossip to the rest of the House. "I'll bet Potter's soiled his cloak at the mere thought." Though a couple of the other Slytherins agreed, I could easily see our rival House marching down towards us, and it was very clear that Potter had _not _soiled his cloak. Longbottom, on the other hand, I wasn't sure about. Too bad I was related to that nervous sheep. They stood next to their brooms just as we had, and Madam Hooch glared at us with her yellow hawk-like eyes.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," she growled harshly, "and say 'Up!'"

I, along with many of my fellow students, looked at our old, jagged brooms in distaste, then shouted, "UP!" in the most hopeful way. For people like Malfoy and me, who had at least some experience with flying, it shot up to our grasp right away (though I don't know why it did for Potter.) For others, they would stumble and twirl around in meaningless patterns, seeming forever in a loop. It even smacked Weasley in the head, to my amusement. We then all mounted our brooms.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground hard," Hooch instructed us. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two – " Longbottom suddenly bounced high into the air before Madam Hooch could even blow her whistle. "Come back, boy!" she shouted, but he kept rising higher and higher and higher, and then falling and falling and WHAM! The boy lay face down on the grass as his broomstick continued to rise. Hooch rushed to the scene.

"Broken wrist," I heard her say. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get." She turned to us. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." She then helped Longbottom hobble away, crying as if he had _lost_ his wrist instead of simply breaking it. Was I _really_ related to _him_? He must've gotten his clumsiness from the maternal side to his family, because _I_ surely wasn't.

I averted my mind back to my classmates. Malfoy had started laughing, and many of the other Slytherins were joining in; the only reason why I hadn't was because of my relation to him. If I made fun of him, I might as well be making fun of myself, right?

"Look!" He bent down and grabbed something from the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." Even as Malfoy held the strange round object up, I couldn't figure out what it was.

"Give that here, Malfoy." It was Potter who had spoken, and quietly at that. An eerie silence upheld the students as they stared to watch at the two rivals.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up in a tree?" The blond boy jumped onto his broomstick, and was taking off.

"Give it _here_!" I really didn't see what was so special about Longbottom's . . . his . . . thing. Whatever it was. I didn't even think Potter and him were friends.

Malfoy sneered. "Come and get it, Potter!" And Potter grabbed his broom, ignoring a few complaints from Granger, and _flew_. Where in Merlin's name had Potter learned to fly? I'd heard from all the other students that he'd been raised by _Muggles_, not overly encouraging wizards! As I cranked my neck up beneath the glaring sun to see what they were up to, I noticed the almost-frightened looked on Malfoy's face. It looked like he didn't expect Potter to fly, either.

The boy angrily threw the thing that belonged to Longbottom high in the air, and shot back to the earth, but we all stared in awe at Potter's mastery at catching the circular object. _He should be Gryffindor Seeker! _I exclaimed in my head. Of course, First Years couldn't be on the team, but surely McGonagall would make an exception?

"HARRY POTTER!" _I guessed wrong_, I presumed, because there was McGonagall – standing right there – furiously screaming at Potter. "_Never_ – in all my time at Hogwarts – how _dare_ you – might have broken your neck – "

"It wasn't his fault, Professor – " Parvati Patil pleaded.

"But Malfoy – " Weasley whined.

"That's _enough_. Potter, follow me, now." Potter glumly trudged behind the Deputy Headmistress, and even I felt a smile crack upon my lips. I couldn't exactly help but see what hilarity Malfoy had done, getting Potter expelled. If he weren't such a stuck up snob, we might have even been friends.

"So what are we supposed to do until Madam Hooch comes back?" I heard Nott whisper worriedly into my ear.

I chuckled at my next thought. "Try to get Granger on a broom. It would sure save us a lot of smart talk in the long run." I don't think Nott really understood what I was talking about, but all the Slytherins who knew what a know-it-all Granger, I was pleased to see, smiled in the very least at this fantasy. Granger was flitting around, yelling at anyone who found my 'snide comment,' as she called it, funny, causing her a couple skeptical looks. I even caught Weasley grinning at this.

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**Thank you to any reviewers. Please remember to read and review. Even if you absolutely hate this story, a review _would_ help, because constructive criticism is always good for a writer; it helps us improve.**


	7. SM Chapter 7

**It's a bit of a disappointment that this came out on Christmastime instead of Halloween.**

**Disclaimer: I will now speak in various other languages for my disclaimers, because English is hideously ugly.  
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**Si je possédait cette série, je l'aurais vendu ce travail moi-même au lieu de poster sur un site Web qui me donne pas prophète en retour.**

**Yay, French! But I doubt I got the grammar right.  
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I woke with a start. It was Halloween, and for the first time on that holiday, I was disappointed. "Tracey?" I whined loudly, waking her up from her 'beauty sleep.' "Do we get candy?"

The girl gave me a tired, skeptical look. "_What_?"

"Do we get _candy_?" I repeated. I had enjoyed trick-or-treating as a youngster, and just the year before I had enjoyed stealing candy from my mum's stash that she'd kept for the trick-or-treaters. "Because _Muggles_ give away free candy on Halloween . . . "

"I repeat," Tracey said, now sounding frustrated, "_what_?"

"Nevermind," I sighed, crawling out of bed. After putting on my robes (it was convenient that they were black, as it is one of the Halloween colors) and some orange-and-black ribbons in my hair, I headed into the common room. I was greeted by the not-so-friendly Malfoy, who was wearing his traditional ugly gelled-back blonde hair.

"What are you_ wearing_, Clough?" he whispered in a slight laugh, though I could tell he wasn't on his most arrogant mood, as Crabbe and Goyle weren't with him. "Honoring your Muggle ancestors, are you?"

"As a matter-of-fact, I am," I stated proudly, unfazed by his rude behavior. "And I didn't know that you knew so much about Muggles. You did your research then, didn't you now?"

His face turned a bit pink, but he stood his ground, staring straight into my eyes. "I saw them go around every year, getting candy for dressing up as wizards, and such. Ha! I'll even bet a few of them get cursed every year for mocking us. Can't say I blame the wizards who do so – "

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm sure you're going to make your father _very_ proud when you're older."

He sneered triumphantly. "I _would_." At that moment, Malfoy's petty minions, Crabbe and Goyle, came crashing down the steps into the room. "Guess what, Crabbe, Goyle. Clough thinks I'll make my father _proud_! Really now," he said, turning back to me. "I don't do things to make him proud, I do things because they're right." He gave me a glare that showed what he said was right, but I just grinned.

"If that's what you think," I sighed, mockingly. I then slipped out my wand, and tapped it on my hand. "Oh, and by the way . . . _Wingardium Leviosa_." I swished my wand at Malfoy, and he started to rise up in the air, which extremely worried him. In fact, Malfoy looked scared. As I broke into a hysterical giggle, Nott walked down into the common room, and stared dumbfounded at the floating Malfoy.

"Woah. You _have_ to teach me that!" he exclaimed, his glasses getting a little misty. I smiled to myself (if that were anymore possible than my already smiling mouth.) Was Nott _crying_?

"We learned it in charms class," I replied, letting Malfoy fall to the ground with a loud _thud_. "You just have to apply yourself. I've got my guinea pig to practice on," I indicated to Malfoy. "Now we need to find you yours." Malfoy was gone in a flash, with Crabbe and Goyle waddling behind him as quickly as they could. "Anyways, I think we should get some breakfast." He nodded.

"Guess what?" Nott whispered as we headed over. "The Gryffindors haven't learned _Wingardium __Leviosa _yet. Want to . . . ?"

"I'm _way_ ahead of you, Nott," I said, patting my hand against my wand pocket. "On the way out of the Great Hall, we can give them a short introduction to today's lesson." He smiled at me, and we happily walked over to the Great Hall.

We soon landed ourselves detention, but it was worth it, having given about five Gryffindors the Malfoy treatment before Flitwick had found us. ("Misuse of charmswork?" he had squeaked, sounding utterly appalled. "Detention, and ten points each, Mr. Nott! Miss Clough!") We had laughed ourselves, but it would have only been more hilarious if we had gotten Granger with it, though she had read too far ahead to be surprised. We'd almost fooled her, too!

We had Transfiguration next, and McGonagall had decided for all of us to turn the white hairs on a cat's body to black. It wasn't too exciting for Halloween, but hey, we were first years! It was an easy task, and most of the students completed it successfully.

In Potions, Snape had his own cruel way of serving up the Halloween spirit, as we were brewing up a cauldron of Bulgeye Potion. The drinker's eyes were to swell up, with the only fast enough prepared antidote before the eye exploded being a bezoar.

This class, Bulstrode mostly slept the whole time, and I did the potion easily, until I reached one point in the ingredients which didn't make sense. "Professor?" My partner's eyes shot open when I called Snape over to us, and she frantically started smashing boom berry seeds. Snape looked at me expressionlessly, and I decided that meant to speak. "Why are we putting shredded dittany in this potion? I mean, wouldn't it make more sense just to put in a dragonfly thorax? Because if we use dittany, it would latch some skin onto the eye, wouldn't it? But the dragonfly thorax would give the eye enough endurance to grow bigger before popping."

Snape's cold gaze wavered on me for a while. "Try it," he finally said. "I have a toad you can use it on." He left. I shrugged, and went to the cupboard to look for a dragonfly thorax as Bulstrode fell back asleep.

After class, I brought my potion over to Snape. It was bright pink instead of the preferred neon green, which made me feel really nervous. He took two toads out, and as he put his own Bulgeye Potion into the first toad's mouth, I put mine into the second. He put a speeding charm on the toads to quicken the results, and we watched as the toads' eyes gave a gruesome heave, as they were starting to become too big for their sockets. Painful croaks were heard as the toads toppled forward with the weight of their eyes, and the eyes of the first toad finally popped, making me flinch. The second toad's eyes grew at least three times bigger before doing the same.

"Maybe I do have some intelligent students this year," Snape finally said. "You can go to your next class, now. Fiftey points to Slytherin for your excellent mind." I left smiling, but not before sneaking my own veil of the new Bulgeye Potion remedy. It could come in handy sometime. I was thinking about using it on one of Hagrid's creatures, but I didn't have a free period to spare. After Herbology, we all went to lunch, and a sly idea came into my head. I decided I should try out my Bulgeye Potion on something . . . _human_.

"Hello, Tracey," I said to that one lovely Slytherin sitting next to me. "How has your day been?" The girl grunted in an annoyed way, and turned away. "You going to get something to drink?" She glared at me with her beady, little eyes. (They would be larger soon.). "Alright, then. Don't talk to me." While she wasn't looking, I slipped the veil of pink potion into her pumpkin juice, though I had a bezoar in my hand, because I didn't want eye-ball goop all over my robes.

After a few long minutes of chatter with her friends, Tracey finally drank from her goblet, smacking her lips as if it tasted somehow tangy. I smiled, as the effects took place almost immediately. She gave out a few uncomfortable groans, rubbing her eyes, before she began screaming wildly.

"Are you okay, Tracey?" I said instantaneously and mockingly, just as I'd planned. "I think that your eye is swelling a bit." She would've glared at me, I know, but she couldn't, as her head was slammed against the table, her eyes bearing too much weight already. The other students and teachers were beginning to look at us, and though I wanted to let my smile grow, I knew it was the time to look scared and worried.

"Tracey! Are you okay?" I whispered urgently. As if we were friends, I rapped my arm around her in a comforting way, but she ignored my 'Mudblood' arm. So no one could see, I took the bezoar I had been holding, and shoved it in her throat so hard that it gave her a choke. The swelling instantly subsided, and she lay there crying pitfully, still feeling in pain from having her eyes expanded out so much, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Snape's gaze linger on me. He then whispered something to Dumbledore, and I began to wonder if I'd then gone too far. _Well then, Hogwarts,_ I thought. _Good-bye._ At least someone's Halloween had been horror before I'd left.

Later that day during the Halloween Feast (which was quite good, I must say,) a Troll escaped from the dungeon, and everyone must know how that goes. From what I heard in the rumors the next day, it'd attacked Granger in the Girl's Lavatory, and Potter and Weasley had saved her just in time. It must've been true, because five points to Gryffindor had been added since then.

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**And don't forget to review! I'm sorry that I say that every time, but I'm worried that people will forget to otherwise, because - at least for me - when I read a fanfiction, I hardly ever remember to review if it doesn't remind me to at the end.**


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